


Salt

by draculard



Category: The Handmaid's Tale (TV), The Handmaid's Tale - Margaret Atwood
Genre: F/F, Ficlet, Set while June is still with the Waterfords as a Handmaid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-07
Updated: 2019-03-07
Packaged: 2019-11-13 10:57:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18030437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/draculard/pseuds/draculard
Summary: There's the taste of flavored salt on Serena Joy's lips.





	Salt

There’s the taste of flavored salt on Serena Joy’s lips. It’s on the tips of her fingers, too, a savory-sweetness that Offred hasn’t tasted in years. She isn’t sure what she’s doing; she can’t control herself.

She takes Serena Joy’s fingers in her mouth and sucks the salt off them. Serena Joy’s legs are crossed beneath her heavy blue dress; she sits in the velvet armchair with her back straight as an arrow, her hair arranged artfully above her shoulders. When she looks down at Offred, kneeling on the floor, it’s with the eyes of a queen surveying a peasant.

Serena Joy’s elbow is propped on the arm of the chair, a forbidden cigarette burning between her fingers. The smoke wreaths her lips, hides them from Offred’s sight. She wonders if that hand tastes like salt, too, if the flavor extends all the way to the strip of pale skin visible at her wrist, where her sleeve has slipped down.

Offred’s knees creak as she stands. She leans over Serena Joy, feels the fabric of her dress press against Serena Joy’s, blue and red clashing but never mingling. Her lips find Serena Joy’s and she chases away every last hint of that tantalizing, familiar-yet-foreign flavor.

“What have you been eating?” Offred murmurs. She rests her head against Serena Joy’s shoulder. Serena Joy stretches her arm around Offred’s back, straining to bring her cigarette back to her mouth.

“It’s just almonds,” Serena Joy says. “There’s no reason to lose your dignity over it.”

Offred sighs; the sound is muffled against Serena Joy’s skin. After a moment, the other woman pushes her -- firmly, with the hand still slick from Offred’s mouth. She taps Offred’s shoulder over and over again, but Offred doesn’t budge.

“You’re disgusting,” Serena Joy says. “Get off me.”

One aleatory decision, that’s all it is. Offred could move or she could kiss Serena Joy again, without the threadbare excuse of salt on her lips, ripe for the taking. She could back away, honor the Commander’s god, retreat to her quarters with the incident behind her. Or she could do what she’s wanted to do since day one -- capture every single one of Serena Joy’s glares and Ceremony moans, collect each and every moment from the flexes of her face, drag her down into sin. 

Together. Their arms around each other.

Offred kisses Serena Joy.

Tasting of cigarettes and almonds, Serena Joy kisses her back. 


End file.
